CHAPTER TEN

Sage pulled the huge, iron gate closed behind him, rattling as it slammed shut, then began his walk down the endless driveway towards his family mansion, upset with himself. They had asked him to fulfill a simple mission, for the sake of his entire clan. And he had sincerely intended to. But once he had seen her—Scarlet—everything had changed. He could not possibly bring himself to do what they asked.

He walked slowly, kicking the dirt, eyes on his toes, thinking. The driveway stretched as far as the eye could see, lined with huge, old oak trees, branches arching over it, almost touching, their leaves creating a medley of color. Sage felt as if he were walking into a postcard on this beautiful, late-October day, leaves crunching beneath his feet, the late afternoon sun bouncing off of everything. On the one hand, it made him happy to be alive.

But on the other, it sent a pain to his stomach, as it made him more aware of his own mortality than ever. After all these centuries, he was now faced with only a few weeks left to live. He knew he must savor each day more than ever, savor every site, every smell, taste, experience—knowing it would all be his last. He wanted to hold onto everything, but he felt it all slipping through his fingers so quickly. It was a funny feeling: he’d lived for almost two thousand years—1,999 to be exact—and all throughout the centuries, he’d never paid attention to the passing of time. He had taken it for granted. He had felt like he would live forever.

But now, with only weeks left to live, everything took on a supreme importance, a supreme urgency. Finally, after so many years on this earth, he felt what it was like to be mortal. To be human. To be frail, vulnerable. It was awful, like a cruel joke. Finally, he realized what humans went through. He couldn’t understand how they dealt with it, how they lived with their own death sentence every day. It made him admire them more than he’d ever did.

He, like his entire clan, had known for centuries that there was an end-time to their existence. He’d always assumed that when the time came, he would deal with it gracefully, would have had enough of life, would be tired of all the centuries, of all the people coming and going. But now that the end was here, he wanted more time. It still wasn’t enough.

Being an Immortalist, Sage’s life was almost identical to that of a human’s: he ate and drank and slept and woke and gained energy from food and drink—just like any other human. The only difference was, he could not die. If he did not eat or drink, he would not die from starvation; if he got injured, he would heal almost instantly. He could not get sick, or disease.

Luckily, his kind did not need to prey on humans, or animals—or anything—to sustain its life energy. They could co-habit with them peacefully. There were some among his clan who attacked humans for sport, for a drug-like high: if they chose to, late at night they could transform to an enormous raven-like creature, roam the skies, swoop down and wrap a human in an embrace with their huge, air-tight wings, holding them like that for minutes until they depleted all the human’s psychic and emotional energy. They would leave them crumpled on the ground, collapsed, when they were through. They would never actually bite them. But they didn’t need to—when they wrapped their wings tight around a human, it drew out all the energy they needed.

Of course, this was completely unnecessary for an Immortalist’s existence. Those of his clan who did this did it for a high that only lasted for a few hours and sent them crashing after that. Sage could only always tell when one of his clan had fed—he could see it in the brightness of their eyes, the flush of their cheeks. Human-feeding was an unnecessary and hedonistic sport. It was also cruel, as it left the human victim psychotic. For this reason the Grand Council had outlawed human-feeding centuries ago. None of his immediate clan partook. After all, who wanted to draw so much negative attention?

But lately, things were starting to change. With only a few weeks left to live, he noticed his people acting differently. They were all on edge, acting desperate, and doing things they never would. He’d even heard that last night, one of his own had attacked a human.

Of course, he knew who it had to be: Lore. Who else? A distant cousin, Lore was the bad-apple of his clan, and had been a thorn in Sage’s side for centuries. He was an energy addict, and he relished in causing trouble for his clan everywhere they went. He was also a hot-head, vindictive, and totally unpredictable.

Sage continued down the driveway, approaching their ancestral home—a huge, sprawling marble mansion surrounded by dozens of acres, right on the river. They had homes all over the world, of course; they had grand castles, and marble townhomes, and fortresses, and entire islands. But of all the homes around the world, Sage liked this one the most. Tucked away, far from any main roads, nestled against the tranquil Hudson River, this one felt most like home. He loved to sit out on the balcony, especially late at night, under the moon, and watch the reflection of the water. It made him feel as if he were the only one left in the world. He remembered, centuries ago, during the Revolutionary war, sitting out and watching the battles on the Hudson.

But now, as he walked towards the house, instead of being filled with joy, he was filled with dread. His clan had only recently moved back here, and in Sage’s view, it was an act of desperation. He wanted to live out his remaining time in peace. Instead, the clan had raced back here, hoping, as always, to find a cure for their sickness, to prolong their lifetime. Sage knew it was ridiculous, a futile endeavor: they had been searching for a cure for as long as he could remember—and never, not once, not in any remote corner of the world, had they found it. They were all false leads, dead-ends. In his view, the cure was just a myth, a legend. There was no way to extend their lifetime. It would end, and that would be all. Sage was resigned to it. He just wanted to live out his life and enjoy what he had, instead of desperately chasing myths and fables.

But others in his clan felt differently. Especially his parents. Once again, they claimed to have sensed the last remaining vampire on earth, the mythical teenage girl rumored to hold the key to the cure. Sage had heard this before—many times. But this time, they were serious. They had moved everyone back here in hopes of finding her—and worse, they had assigned Sage to be the one to gain her trust. To find out if she held the key—and to make sure she gave it to him. Because legend had it that the key must be given freely, and could not be simply taken.

What bothered Sage most about all this was that, even if all of this was true, even if this was the right girl, even if she did hold the key, even if he managed to gain her trust and get the key—there was still the next part. Because in order for the cure to work, the vampire girl who gave it had to be killed. The thought of it repulsed Sage. He had never killed a soul—not in two thousand years—and he didn’t plan on starting now. Especially a teenage girl.

As he thought of the girl he’d seen in the cafeteria today, Scarlet, it made him feel even sicker. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and the thought of her sent butterflies to his stomach. He felt awful having to be assigned to gain her trust, to find out her secrets—to potentially kill her. It was against everything he stood for. He would keep up appearances to please his parents and his clan—but he already knew that he would sooner kill himself than harm her.

What troubled him most was that, when he saw her, for the first time in his entire existence, he actually sensed something unusual: he felt he was in the presence of another immortal being. He knew right away that she was not one of his. Which meant she could only be one thing: a vampire. The last remaining vampire on earth.

The thought sent a shiver up his spine. Despite everything, he feared his clan had found her after all, and that the legend was real. Which meant a cure might be out there. Why now? With just a few weeks left to go? Of course, he wanted to live, just like all of them. But he would never want to live at the expense of someone else. Especially at her expense.

As Sage opened the huge, arched front door, he was greeted by a host of activity: as usual, his clan members loafed around the place, spread out in the grand room, sitting in chairs and couches, reading ancient leather-bound books, or ambling about and strolling on the patio. He’d lost count of how many cousins he had, but he knew at least a dozen of them had come back with them to this sprawling mansion. Being an Immortalist had its advantages, and time had been kind to them: none of them looked older than 18. A mix of boys and girls, while they were all close to 2,000 years old, like him, one would never know it. They were all gorgeous—with perfect, sculpted faces, flawless, looking as if they could grace covers of magazines. Some were dressed in the latest fashions—tight-fitting jeans, slim leather jackets—while others wore more regal, traditional outfits from other centuries—like long, black velvet cloaks with high collars. They all looked fashionable, and it was like walking into a modeling shoot.

Sage scanned the room, looking for any sign of Lore. It was their first day back here, and he couldn’t believe Lore already had the audacity to go out and sap a human. Already, Sage’s presence here was compromised; Lore had managed to cause trouble, to make life harder for him, to make them even more conspicuous in this town.

He looked carefully but saw no sign of him—he was probably off on his drug high. Probably lying on the roof, if he knew him.

“Mom and Dad want to see you,” suddenly came a voice.

Sage turned and saw walking past him, his older sister, Phoenicia. With long, straight, jet black hair and wide black eyes, she looked nothing like Sage. She acted nothing like him, either. She could be competitive, jealous and territorial. Throughout the centuries, the two of them had a complicated relationship, often fraught with tension. Sage felt that she was always in competition with him, always trying to get their parents’ attention, to shine more than he did. That was fine with Sage—he could care less about his parents’ attention—but nonetheless, they always seemed to favor him, and that drove her crazy. She let it out on him. She seemed perpetually mad at him, and nothing seemed to change it.

She could also be controlling and manipulative. He never knew what to expect around her, and often felt as if he had to walk on eggshells. But at the same time, sometimes she could surprise him and be unexpectedly sweet and vulnerable, totally catching him off guard. Sometimes she even confided in him. He never knew what to expect.

“I watched you at school today,” she reported.

He was shocked; he’d had no idea she’d been spying on him. He wondered if she did it on her own, or if her parents had planted her as a spy, to keep track of him.

“You didn’t even try to talk to her. I told Mom and Dad, and they’re really pissed. Brace yourself,” she said, as she hurried off.

“Thanks,” he answered. “Knew I could always count on you to put in a good word.”

It was just like her, causing friction between him and his parents already. Already ratting him out. His face turned red with frustration. He resented her, and he resented his parents. He wasn’t sure who he resented more. Not because they were all breathing down his neck and forcing him to.

Sage hurried through the vast, cavernous rooms of the mansion, through an arched door, down an endless corridor, across a bare room with wide-plank wood floors, up a wide, marble staircase, and finally, to a set of arched, double doors. His parents’ study.

He knocked three times, and waited.

“Come in,” came his Dad’s muted voice. He could already sense that he was unhappy. He braced himself as he entered.

Seated behind the wide desk were his dad and mom. They both sat in high-backed leather chairs, staring back coldly. They did not look happy. Clearly, they had expected Sage to come running home from school and report to them right away. He could sense how impatient they were, on-edge. The end of their lifespan was getting to them, too. They had no time to waste, and they were mad because he’d wasted a precious day.

They were right. He had not rushed home. He had not even taken his car today, but had chosen to walk. He’d ambled about the school grounds, walked through the town, then took a long walk, slowly, back home. He wanted time to think, to process it all, to sort out his feelings for this girl. What he felt terrified him. It was a sense of a deep connection, a deep love towards her.

Why now? he wondered. Why now, with only a few weeks left to live? When there was no time for their love to blossom? Why had he had to meet her now? Why couldn’t they have met centuries before?

“Why the delay?” his dad asked, wasting no time.

“Close the door,” his mom snapped. Clearly, neither of them were in the mood for pleasantries.

Sage closed the door behind him, running through potential responses in his head. He resented, after all these centuries, still having to answer to them. Somehow it seemed to be a necessary evil, just part of the way things worked. It was especially unsettling because, they, being Immortalists, looked to be his own age, hardly older than 18.

He crossed the room and sat across from them. He felt like he was a little kid again, and hated it. He considered possible responses, and decided it was best, for now, just to set them at ease.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

They stared back, not bothering to respond.

“You’re on a mission,” his dad reminded sternly. “We have no time. Are you not aware of that?”

“I am aware.”

“So why the delay?” retorted his mom, impatient.

“I lost track of time,” he lied.

His mother shook her head.

“Just like your sister. A dreamer. You still don’t realize, do you? In a few weeks, you’ll be dead. We’ll all be dead. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“I did that which you asked of me,” he replied. “I went there. I was in the school. I saw her.”

“And?” his father prodded.

He paused.

“I did not have a chance to speak with her yet,” he said.

His parents both sat up in their chairs, outraged. They were about to speak, but he cut them off.

“It was a crowded school,” Sage said. “She was surrounded by friends. There was no way to approach her in an inconspicuous way. She was not alone for a second. I’m sorry. Perhaps tomorrow there will be more opportunity.”

His father slowly shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I knew we made a mistake choosing your for this task. It is just as it always has been. Excuses. Delays. Don’t you understand!?” he suddenly screamed. “This is not a mission of pleasantries! It is one of urgency!” he slammed his fist into the desk, rattling the china cup on it.

A tense silence fell over the room. Sage wanted to yell back, but thought it best to keep calm for now. If he wanted to save Scarlet, he had to stay calm and divert attention away from her.

“I’m not convinced she is the one, anyway,” Sage said. “I feel confident that, once again, you’re wasting your time,” he lied.

“That is for us to decide,” hissed his mother, “not you.”

She suddenly jumped up from her chair and paced the room, looking distraught.

“If you can’t complete this task, then we’ll choose someone else who can. You have plenty of attractive cousins who would be more than happy to finish the job.”

“Yes, you have many to choose from who could kill her quite easily,” Sage said. “But how many do you have who could gain her confidence? Who can get her to willingly offer the key? After all, the key can’t be taken. And killing her without the key is useless, isn’t it? So you need me. You know that you do.”

He knew he had them. After all, he was right: he’d always been known for his tact, his ability to gain trust and confidence. That was because he was sincere. None of his cousins had that trait.

“If she’s not the one, as you predict,” his father said, “then it doesn’t matter either way, does it? In that case, we might as well just kill her. Maybe I should just send Lore to take care of it now?”

Sage reddened at his bluff being called.

“What would you gain by that?” Sage asked, on thin ice.

“What do you care?” smiled back his father. “Unless you have some reason to protect her?”

Sage fumed. As usual, they had caught him, had managed to back him into a corner. He had to think quick. He cleared his throat.

“All I’m saying,” he began, “is give me another day. Surely one more day is not a lot to ask for. These things take time. I will fulfill the mission. I will discover her secrets. And if she is the one, I will get her to give me the key.”

“And then, we will kill her,” his mother added.

He glared back at her, his eyes darkening. He’d had enough.

“You will get your way, mother,” he said back in a steely tone. “After all, you always have, haven’t you? But what if this trick doesn’t work. What if, like the rest of us, you’ll die in a few weeks? Then what, mother? Then who will you have left to order around?”

With that, Sage stood, turned, and strutted from the room.

“Sage, get back here!” his father yelled after him.

But he’d had enough. He stormed out the room and slammed the door behind him. He couldn’t stand to hear their voices for one more moment.

As he closed the door behind him, he looked up and saw, standing there, his cousin. Lore. He was grinning back at him with an evil grin, his eyes glazed over in a drug haze. Lore was three inches taller than Sage, at six foot five, and had broad shoulders and a square jaw. He sneered down, dressed in his black leather jacket, unshaven, stubble on his face.

“Hello, cousin,” he said.

It took all Sage’s willpower to control his anger.

“Eavesdropping again?” Sage asked.

Lore only grinned wider.

“Your new mission. Is Scarlet her name?” his grin widened. “She sounds delightful. Don’t worry, if you can’t finish her off, I will.”

Sage wanted to kill him right then and there, with his bare hands.

But he couldn’t.

So instead, he forced himself to walk away, bumping Lore’s shoulder hard as he walked past him.

Sage needed to stay focused. More than anything, he needed to divert attention from this girl.

Because deep down, in his heart, he knew that Scarlet was the one. The key to his clan’s survival.

And he would do everything in his power to save her.